


sometimes three is not a crowd and four is perfection

by elbowsinsidethedoor



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: AU, Foursome m/m/m/f, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-13 23:34:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12994956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elbowsinsidethedoor/pseuds/elbowsinsidethedoor
Summary: The threesome I promised sky -- that has evolved into a foursome! A universe in which John and Nathan coexist. All marriages are negotiated contracts ... and it's Christmas, of all things.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [talkingtothesky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/gifts).



> I've pictured Harold and Nathan to be nearing forty in this story, John slightly younger.

It was mid-December and the city was glittering. Nathan Ingram loved it; the spectacle and energy of the holidays made him feel young, his senses excited. He felt the urge to indulge in pleasurable things and wanted his partner to share the excitement with him. It wasn't easy to accomplish. Harold was as steeped in his work as a bear would be with the job of tasting honey. He never tired of it or found it less than fascinating.

They had been together for close to fifteen years, both personally and professionally. Their company, Ingram Finch Technologies, was at the forefront of the tech industry. Nathan acknowledged that it was mostly due to the talent of his quiet partner. He liked to think his own charm and business savvy (as well as the boost of his family’s money) had played a big enough role in their success to be worthy of his name on the letterhead. But, considerable as he believed his own talents to be, he knew the most genius thing he’d done in his life was marry Harold Finch.

Their personal commitment had been signed and sealed the same year they started working together. They’d chosen a non-monogamous contract because from the start Harold had less interest in sex than Nathan did, needing to be gently reminded from time to time, that pleasure dwelled in the body as well as in the mind.

“You need to get out of that brilliant head,” he would say. “And I need you.” It was god’s honest truth. Harold would look at him with a slow smile, as if remembering there was a beautiful garden right outside his door that he’d forgotten to walk in. When his brilliance and focus turned in Nathan’s direction, it was intense and soul satisfying. Though it was true that Nathan liked candy, Harold was the very sustenance of his life.

It was a small miracle that he’d convinced him to attend a lavish Christmas Ball. Its host was a newly-minted billionaire by the name of Logan Pierce; the brightest light in the new firmament of social media. Pierce had commandeered the Metropolitan Museum of Art for the occasion.

“You can wear the new dress suit from Gianni,” Nathan said. “Let me show you off.” The venue helped his cause. “If you get bored you can wander off to look through the galleries.”

Nathan was watching for him to arrive during the cocktail hour, sipping scotch. His friend, Zoe Morgan, had joined him, looking as lushly beautiful as the opulent setting.

“Nathan, you’re looking very handsome this evening. Are you on the prowl?”

“Always. You?”

“We’ll see.”

“You look lovely, yourself,” he told her — an understatement. She looked good enough to eat, he thought, in a gold evening gown. She tended to wear outfits designed to show off her legs, but the strapless gown was a reminder that she had other impressive assets. “The color … is perfect. One might even say perfectly selected to shine here." The hall was dotted with Christmas trees, extravagantly trimmed in gold ornaments; the upper reaches of the gallery were strung with lights and elaborate confections of golden ribbon.

She smiled in acknowledgement. “It pays to know the right people. In this case, the set designer who crafted Pierce's little shindig.”

Zoe specialized in crisis management and was conversant with any and everyone wielding power in the city. Nathan had never had any need of her professional services (for which he was grateful) but they’d met often at social engagements through the years. He found her very entertaining company and they often prowled similar territory for casual partners.

“Is there anyone in this city you don't know?” he asked her.

“I don’t know that gentleman. Your four o’clock; dark hair with a shot of silver. A little broody looking. The suit could be better … but does it matter.”

‘He’s good-looking, I’ll grant you that, but there’s something about him that makes me think he’s more trouble than he’s worth. I steer clear of the ones who look dangerous.” 

“You didn’t tell me Harold was coming,” she said. Nathan looked toward the entry and saw him handing his coat to one of the costumed attendants, this one, an elf. It was always something of a delicious shock to see his mate in a crowd of people. The man had gravity, presence. He was quietly stunning in the classic Italian dress suit that Gianni tailored for him so beautifully.

“My better half,” he murmured.

“Much better.”

He laughed. Zoe’s crush on Harold was an open secret. Nathan was never sure if she was serious or just liked to tease Harold because she knew it was safe. Harold saw them and smiled, but was blind-sided by their host, who hooked his arm familiarly in his.

“Uh-oh. That is not a good way to introduce yourself to Harold Finch,” Zoe said. “If you don’t go rescue him, I will.”

“He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

“Why should he, when I'm here.” She shot Nathan a brief glance that said, you had your chance, and waltzed away from him with a swish of her gown.

“May I get you another drink, sir?” An attractive fair-haired waiter, dressed as a toy soldier, stood attentively at Nathan’s side. His sweet, somewhat bland looks were much more to Nathan’s taste than the rather dark gentleman Zoe had pointed out to him.

“Not just now, thank you.” Maybe later, he thought, noting the young man’s shapely ass when he turned away. Of course, Harold was with him tonight. Nathan considered the possibility that for once his partner might indulge with him. Very unlikely, but the thought of the toy soldier on one side of him and Harold on the other was a delicious one.

 

***

Harold stilled when a tuxedoed young man hooked his arm, thinking it was a guest who’d already had a few too many drinks.

“I’m your host, Logan Pierce,” he said. “And you … are the illusive Harold Finch, I believe. Your partner is already here, but … he doesn't interest me.”

“I beg your pardon.” Pierce’s introduction struck him as rude, but Harold refrained from responding in kind. He was relieved to look up and see Zoe Morgan approaching but couldn’t wholly ignore his host. Pierce had a mischievous air about him, his grin suggested he found his own behavior delightful.

“Your firm creates the most, quietly revolutionary technology in the field. It’s my belief that you are the genius behind it.”

“You flatter me, Mr Pierce.” Zoe had reached them, like a lifeline. “Ms Morgan, what a vision you are in gold.”

“Hello, Harold. Please excuse us,” she said to their host. “I’m sure Harold will catch up with you later, Mr Pierce. I hear the music starting in the ballroom and Harold’s name is the first on my dance card.”

“By all means, please enjoy yourselves.” Harold was relieved to be released by the puppyish young man, and offered his arm to Zoe.

As they gained some distance, he said, “I’m not sure what he wants from me.”

“What do any of us want, Harold. The benefit of your wisdom … and a slow turn on the dance floor.”

He smiled. “You should dance with Nathan. That would be a sight worth seeing. The two of you are so beautiful. Speak of the man, hello my love.”

It was worth enduring Logan Pierce and a much too crowded party to see Nathan in his element. Tall, handsome, enjoying the attention of men and women alike. Someone like Nathan needed to be admired, to be appreciated. It made him shine.

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d really show up,” Nathan said, leaning forward to kiss him. “Did I hear you say I should dance with Zoe?”

“You’re out of luck, Ingram,” she said. “I’m taking your husband. Find us a nice table and order me a Manhattan. I promise I’ll return him to you unmolested.”

 

***

 

John Reese needed a job but he wasn’t sure he needed it badly enough to put up with someone as erratic as Logan Pierce. The interview, if it could be called that, had been an un-staged fight with the guy’s bodyguard, a master of Krav Maga. John had defended himself when attacked in Pierce’s office, unthinking reflex and then careful control not to injure his assailant.

“What the hell?” he’d demanded, straightening up from putting the fighter down on the ground.

“That was actually quite impressive,” Pierce said, smiling; his bright blue eyes were merry.

“Does that mean I have a job?” The young CEO had waved the question off.

“Jobs are overrated. Be at the Metropolitan Museum at 9 PM, Friday night. Wear your best suit, it’s formal.” He spoke while scribbling something on a business card.

“Am I working a security detail?”

“Are you always this boring to talk to? Just … be there.” He held the card out and John took it.


	2. Chapter 2

John had a drink in hand and took a careful sip, studying the scene around him. He’d found his way to the museum a little early despite walking most of the way uptown, the last of it along the park. The Metropolitan was massive and impressive, a stately presence in the park on upper Fifth Avenue. He saw a small stream of people arriving in limousines, most in formal evening wear. He had no clue where a service entry might be — Pierce had given him no directions, no contact information.

He showed his card to a guard at the door. “Can you tell me where security is stationed.”

“You’re Mr Pierce’s guest, sir.”

“Guest?”

“Reese,” he was hailed from inside, and saw the bodyguard, the Krav Maga fighter, waving him in.

“Thanks,” he said to the guard, and pocketed the card that was handed back to him.

“Did you think you were working?”

“If I’m not, what is this — another one of his tests?”

“Relax. Have some champagne. Enjoy the music. Pierce will let you know when he wants you.”

“When he wants me?” John said, annoyed by the wording. The guy shrugged.

“It’s a party. Have a good time. You’re a decent fighter … but the job’s about more than fighting.”

What more, exactly, was the question. He bypassed the sequined elves carrying trays of champagne cocktails to get himself a drink at one of the small satellite bars. The whiskey was smooth, top shelf.

It had been a long time since John attended a gathering like this and been surrounded by such ostentatious wealth. He was a soldier then and had the buffer of a dress uniform, a job to do. A soldier. Something he’d thought he always would be, even when his service shifted to covert ops training. His last posting was at Langley. That’s where he was when Jesse, the sweet boy he’d left behind years before, had reached out to him, in fear for his life. John had walked away from everything to answer that call and life as he’d known it had ended.

It was what it was. He didn’t dwell on the night he confronted Jesse’s abusive husband. The man was a bully, not a fighter. He’d come at John clumsily with an iron fireplace shovel. A move he could easily have deflected … but he took the hit.

He was never arrested, never charged with Peter Arndt’s death; the police classed the act as self defense. The hit he took saved him from a murder charge, but not from the agency's judgement. The violation of his covert status effectively ended his career. Worse, in the process, he lost the person he’d given it up to save. He saw it in Jesse’s eyes, in the way he flinched from his touch.

The irony was bitter but he knew he would make the same choice again if he had to. Jesse would never have been safe while Arndt lived.

He drifted for months afterwards, drinking too much, haphazardly picking up work. He needed a job, but more than that, he needed a new purpose in his life. It wasn’t going to be escorting/babysitting a spoiled rich guy. That much he decided as he slowly nursed his drink.

He was aware of eyes turned in his direction, speculative looks. It was a long time since he’d felt the touch of a hand that wasn’t his own. Maybe, he thought, something could be salvaged from this night. The drink was mellowing, the aromas from the buffets were enticing and he might … get lucky. There was a tall blond guy with a gorgeous woman. They were a good-looking pair, if not his type. The guy had Jesse’s coloring, but not his sweetness. The woman, that would be a rare direction for him to move in but if they were an open couple, maybe.

He saw the woman again with a different man, smaller, dark-haired. Her husband? Maybe the blond was her lover. Maybe not … the look of pleasure on her face as she danced with this man made him wonder. They way they moved with the music drew him in.

Her face was radiant, his smile for her was sweet. John liked watching them and shifted position to keep them in sight when other dancers blocked his view. The man was attractive, his features more interesting than handsome in a conventional way. It was what John saw reflected in her; the way she yielded to him as if she felt safe, the way her eyes shone that attracted John to him. He envied her.

He didn’t think he was in this guy’s league, but there was no harm in looking.

What John didn’t see as the night drew on, was much of the party’s host, which suited him fine.

 

***

“Don’t look now, Zoe,” Nathan said. His husband and friend were flush from the dance floor, joining him at the table. He slid her Manhattan, with its bright red cherry, toward her. “Your man in the bad suit has his eye on you. You’ve made a conquest. Your wine, Harold.”

Nathan was feeling very good, warmed by his scotch, happy that Harold was with him and appeared to be enjoying himself, at least for the moment. There was an undercurrent of abandon in the air, a sexual charge to the night that excited him.

“You’re blind,” Zoe said. “It’s Harold he’s watching.”

Nathan felt a little jolt in the region of his solar plexus, he sat up straighter. He almost said, you’re crazy, but the words didn’t reach his lips. “You’re joking.” He managed to say it casually, resisting what he’d just told her not to do — look at the man who was stationed alone by a stone pillar across the room. She had to be teasing.

“Who are we discussing?” Harold asked, gazing around the room with curiosity. His glance stopped and Nathan saw his expression change, soften with interest. “Is it the fellow by the column. He looks lonely.”

“He does,” Zoe agreed. Avoiding Nathan’s eyes, she said, “Shall I invite him to join us?”

“Behave yourself,” Nathan told her.

 

***

Harold thought it would be nice if Zoe invited the man to join them but didn’t interfere with their banter. He liked to hear them go back and forth, like characters in a light-hearted play. They inhabited a world a little apart from his, full of pretend passions, intrigues, flirtations.

That man in the distance. Harold had known he must be the one they were referring to. The suit was … unfortunate. In his mind he corrected the fit and fabric, seeing him as Gianni might. Someone should really take him in and dress him properly, he thought. The face was so handsome; not lonely in a sad way, but full of need. Harold felt the desire to reach out to him.

He kept quiet tabs on him through the evening, sorry when he did not see him among the guests. Happy whenever his eyes found him. Some people’s attractiveness, he thought, transcended whatever clothes they wore. Nathan looked very good no matter how he was dressed. Zoe too, he thought, looked lovely in jeans and a sweater. Still, he loved to see them in finery. The dark-haired stranger; he was exceptionally good-looking to Harold’s eyes, even in a pedestrian suit, but it would really be something to see him dressed as he should be.

The time came when his social butterflies left him to pursue the passions that came and went in a night. Harold looked for the lonely stranger but did not see him, so he decided the time had come to stroll through the galleries. Not everything would be open to the party’s guests but he could see that the twinkling lights extended down toward the hall of ancient sculpture that he was fond of.

It was a little cool and very quiet among the Greek and Roman statuary, some whole, some only fragments. Harold had toured this exhibit many times but never tired of it, the craftsmanship of the ancient sculptors, the sense of history.

“Hello.” He heard a quiet voice and turned to find the dark-haired stranger right behind him. His heart beat a little harder and he smiled. Up close the man’s looks were even more striking, his eyes an amazing shade of blue.

“I thought you’d left,” he said, holding out his hand. “My name is Harold. I’m … delighted to meet you.”

“John.” A broad, warm hand enfolded his, maybe a moment longer than a usual handshake, and Harold offered a warm pressure in return.

“I’m so glad you’ve joined me.”

“I thought I saw you look my way,” he said, falling into step beside Harold. He had a quiet tread for a big man.

“I hope you didn’t find it rude,” Harold said, pausing, turning to look up at him. John’s smile was slow and completely captivating.

“Rude? No. I was hoping it meant … something. Is the beautiful woman your wife?”

“The beautiful man,” he said, “is my husband. The woman is a friend.” Harold felt suddenly at sea. This was Nathan’s world, he realized. A place where people flirted and assignations occurred, bodies came together briefly and parted. It wasn’t his world. He didn’t know its rules, its customs, how to navigate it, but he felt something for this stranger. The music, the sounds of the party were softened here and they were alone. The longer he gazed at him in the quiet, standing so close, the more enamored he was. “You are … very compelling,” he told him. All the need, the loneliness he’d felt from him was focused in the man’s enigmatic eyes.

“If I was your husband,” he said, his voice soft and rough at the same time, “I wouldn’t leave your side.”

An extravagant assertion. Was this banter? It wasn’t playful. It was full of a yearning that made Harold feel tender toward him. If Nathan were the sunshine of a golden morning, this man would be the mysterious beauty of night and the draw of the moon.

“I’m afraid you’d grow bored if you never left my side,” he told him. “I’m not … the most passionate of men.”

“Really.” The eyes said he doubted it.

“Our contract is open,” he explained, “to free him.”

“What about you, Harold. Are you free?”

 

***

In the coat check room, Nathan leaned the elf back into a generous rack of wool, cashmere and fur. Nice place to get his hands on the young man he wanted, to suck his cock. He made a mental note to have his own topcoat sent to the cleaners even as he ran the taut erection across his lips.

The elf was passionate in turn and eager to reciprocate, but Nathan found his mind wandering while his dick was being sucked.

“Is there something you need me to do?” The youngster’s face was flushed, his expression earnest.

“You were doing fine,” Nathan said. “Sometimes, it’s not in the cards.” He could still taste the elf’s cum in the back of his throat. That was enough to make him feel like the encounter was successful. He tucked his semi hard cock back in his pants and zipped up, knowing he was too distracted to continue. He had the nagging feeling he’d left Harold alone too long. Zoe was probably with him and he was fine, but Nathan headed back to the main gallery, suddenly hungry for the sight of his husband.

He encountered Zoe on his way. A few decorous strands had escaped from her upswept hair but she’d clearly freshened her makeup.

“Having a good time, Zoe?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” She took his arm as they walked, heading back to their table. Nathan saw it was currently empty.

“Where’s Harold?” he asked her.

“Last I saw, he was heading in the direction of the ancient art. His admirer was following him.”

“You can take a joke too far, you know.”

“Who’s joking?”

Nathan stopped in his tracks to look at her. She wasn’t teasing him.

“Why didn’t you stop him.”

“Excuse me. Did you or did you not just ravish an elf?”

“It’s different,” he insisted, but didn’t explain, he needed to find Harold.

“What are you doing?” she called after him. He didn’t answer, his heart pounding, heading for the south wing. He heard the swish of her skirts as she hurried to catch up with him. “This is a bad idea, Nathan.” She grabbed his arm and he whipped around to face her.

“You don’t understand,” he told her. “Harold doesn’t do … casual.”

He saw her glance past him.

“I see them,” she said. “Be gentle, Nathan. Harold’s holding his hand.”

“Oh god.”


	3. Chapter 3

Zoe steered Nathan toward the tables ringing the dance floor, telling him not to turn around. “I think Harold’s bringing him over.” She lifted a cocktail from a toy soldier’s tray in passing.

It was all he could do to breathe deeply as he took a seat; trying to behave as if he hadn’t been about chase his husband and his lover down, and do … he didn’t know what, to stop them, interrupt them. Too late. While he was having meaningless sex with an elf in the coat room, his husband might have been falling in love with another man.

Harold appeared at the table side, pink-cheeked, looking adorably pleased with himself; his new lover in tow.

“I’d like you to meet, John Reese.”

Nathan didn’t want to look at the guy, afraid to find some kind of, “I fucked your husband” look on his face, but he made himself do it. There was no smugness, thank god. The man’s expression was schooled, cautious, almost … shy. The bastard was even better-looking close up than from a distance. Nathan still sensed a worrisome complexity to him, a shadow in the eyes. It made him miserable that he now found it attractive.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Zoe said, laying on the charm, looking up at the guy with a coquettish tilt of her head that made Nathan think, ‘traitor.’

“Zoe.” Reese said her name like he was caressing it. “I enjoyed watching you dance.” Nathan despaired at the measured, soft tone of his voice. It was ridiculously sexy and Zoe was eating it up.

“Won’t you join us?” she asked him, but before he could answer, Harold spoke up.

“We were thinking of leaving, actually.”

Nathan felt a flutter of panic. Hadn’t they already done whatever it was they wanted to do? Was he really going to have to sit here and watch his husband leave with this guy.

“I would like to take John home,” Harold went on. “I wanted to introduce him and see if it was possible … that the two of you would like to join us. It’s something each of you has proposed to me in the past, though you’ve spoken of it separately, and …”

“What?” Nathan’s brain hit pause. He couldn’t hide his shock.

Harold frowned, his blue eyes focusing on him. “My inexperience is showing, isn’t it. I’ve approached this incorrectly.” He looked at John, “I’m afraid you’re in the hands of a complete neophyte.”

The man smiled a little. “I think they’re nice hands.”

“Nathan Ingram,” Zoe snapped at him, “You’re married to the sweetest man on earth and if you don’t reassure him this second, I’m going to throw this drink at your head.”

She was right. She was always right. He reached for Harold’s hand, the one that wasn’t currently being held by someone he still vaguely wished had never been born.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, you just surprised me. It’s incredibly thoughtful to want to include us, are you sure it’s what you want?”

“I think it’s a special night,” Harold said. More special than Nathan wanted it to be, judging from the stars in husband's eyes. He was relieved, past the worst of the shock, that Harold wanted to include him in this adventure. But it was so far outside of anything he'd experienced in their marriage that he felt unmoored. “We’ll take the town car,” Harold said. He leaned forward to kiss Nathan. “I’ll see you at home. And you, Ms Morgan?” he asked her.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

 

***

John forced himself to be patient in the back seat of the car. He was alone with Harold, finally … if he didn’t count the driver.

“I didn’t realize what a stir my attempt at … politeness would create,” Harold said, his hand warm on John’s thigh, close to but not touching his erection. John put his hand on Harold’s, caressing the backs of his fingers.

“You don’t do this often,” he said.

“This is the first time. I never seriously considered it. Nathan is the one who looks at the people around him and feels the urge to connect with a stranger. It’s never happened to me, but, of course, I never encountered you.” Harold looked at him. John couldn’t see his eyes clearly in the low light, through the dark-framed glasses, but everything about Harold expressed honesty. The words were like a warm shot of something better than whiskey and John had to kiss him.

He knew there was nothing about him worthy of being singled out for Harold’s special attention, but he was grateful for it all the same.

The neighborhood, off Park Avenue, a little farther downtown, was one he recognized. Home to many wealthy foreign nationals. The townhouse was slim and tall, five stories with a limestone facade and iron-gated entry. John saw a discreet driveway, also gated, but the driver stopped curbside to the front door.

The nineteenth century building had been opened up inside, with a modern floor plan. John could imagine it featured in an issue of Architectural digest. He suspected Nathan’s taste dominated; Harold didn’t linger or present it to him the way people did when they felt like a space reflected them. “Elevator or stairs?” he asked.

“Stairs.”

He led John up two flights to an impressive master suite. The same contemporary design, with the exception of the artwork … there was a large painting in muted tones of birds, Chinese, John thought. There were other smaller paintings, also of birds. These things, he felt certain, were Harold’s.

“You like birds,” he said.

“I do,” Harold answered him from deep within a large closet where he was hanging his jacket. Meticulous shelves and racks of clothing. There was a faint smell of cedar, of some other light scent he couldn’t identify. “Do you have hobbies, John? Here, let me take your jacket.”

“No. No hobbies.” He handed his jacket to him and watched him hang it with his own clothes. Harold was down to his dress shirt and trousers, it was John’s most intimate look at him yet and he moved closer. When the man turned to look at him, John asked with his eyes if he could touch him.

 

***

How did a man as tall, as powerful-looking as he was, Harold wondered, manage to appear so achingly tender and contained. John was looking at him like he was dying to kiss him but didn’t dare, like a bird seeing seed in a hand he was afraid to approach.

“Come here,” Harold urged him.

What had been exciting in the museum, the kiss among the statues, was better here, without the cold draft, with a bed nearby.

More clothing needs to come off, he thought, drawing back, his fingers moving to loosen and remove John’s tie. Harold had no particular artistry or seductive technique for disrobing someone, but touching John, seeing more of him emerge from his clothing was incredibly erotic.

“There are … a lot of scars,” John warned.

“Surgery?”

“I’ve been a soldier most of my life.”

“Not now?”

“Not now. Security. Logan Pierce was about to offer me a job, I think.” This mildly alarmed him. John was stepping out of his trousers, which he handed to him. “I didn’t stick around to find out. He’s not someone I want to work for.”

Harold felt relieved.

“You have excellent judgement.”

John being a soldier made sense to him. Now that he knew it, he saw it in his bearing. He gazed at him a long moment, admiring him in his t-shirt and boxers before arranging the trousers on a hanger.

“Now you, Harold,” John said, from behind him.

 

***

“If I didn’t know better, Nathan …” Zoe said. She didn’t finish the sentence. They were waiting for the elevator; a small extravagant luxury that Nathan adored.

“What?” he prompted her to continue.

“I’d say you were undressing me with your eyes.”

“Guilty,” he admitted. It was exactly what he’d been doing.

The night had been a roller coaster for him, starting with excitement, followed by glee, moments of arousal, of fear, and then profound disorientation. He didn’t exactly have his bearings. Zoe’s beauty was something he’d always admired from a distance. Now he saw her like a marvelous confection that someone had slid toward him; a voice saying, go ahead, taste it. As often as she’d flirted with Harold, she’d never flirted with him, but he thought he felt a little heat in her gaze.

The elevator door opened. She stepped inside the beautifully paneled little chamber, sweeping the extravagant skirt of her dress around her. When he followed, she turned toward him, put a hand on his chest and pushed him against the wall as the door closed. She pressed full length against him, a firm thigh under ruched satin, sliding between his legs. What could he do but kiss her. His body responded to her teasing and he held her tight against him, letting her feel his erection as he kissed her.

He hadn’t been with a woman in years, but if there were someone worth breaking that fast with, it was Zoe Morgan. That Harold was the architect of this strange night made it slightly unreal and more exciting than if he'd maneuvered it himself. The elevator climbed and stopped on the third floor. The door opened and she broke away from him.

“Nice,” she said.

“More than nice, and you know it,” he challenged, watching the sway of her golden skirt as she led him toward his own bedroom.


	4. Chapter 4

Two pairs of blue and one hazel pair of eyes watched her every move as she undressed, with particular interest in her breasts. Of course. Who didn’t love breasts? She had a weakness for a nice pair herself. The pillowy softness of them had a universal appeal. She knelt on the bed to get closer to her audience when she was down to her underwear.

“Thank you,” Harold said. “It seemed rude to put my glasses back on … you’re not a stripper, after all, and I … didn’t want to gawk.” She loved the look on his face, he was apologetic and excited at the same time.

“It’s okay, Harold. I want you to see me.” 

To one side of her, he and John were naked under the covers (she presumed, since she could only see them from the waist up.) On the other, Nathan was stripped to his boxers. The suggestive shapes of aroused male flesh were in evidence everywhere. She slid her hands under the cups of her bra, reaching for the clasp in between them. Harold made a little “ah,” sound when she freed her breasts, and he sat up.

“May I?” he asked.

“You may.” She was in favor of him doing anything he wanted. His hands slid up her arms, making her shiver, and down to cup each breast.

“So soft,” he murmured. He leaned forward to press his face into her cleavage, moving his lips over the bare skin almost reverently. She felt warm and exposed, and … wet.

“I always wanted a Barbie doll,” Nathan said, his hand gliding up her thigh to her crotch, fingertips teasing through the fabric. “To play with, to dress and undress. This is better. Anatomically correct.”

“Lie down with us,” Harold said, moving a pillow into place.

The two husbands were killing her. Her panties were history, flung somewhere off the bed and the two of them were having a confab over her pussy.

“It’s like a little dickhead, very sensitive,” Nathan instructed, caressing her clit with a moistened fingertip. Harold nodded and burrowed down to reach her with his mouth.

Nathan’s fingers were inside her and Harold began to suck, laving gently with his tongue. Most men she’d been with tackled cunnilingus like an endurance test, wagging at the clit like it was a speed bag in the gym. This, this sweet sucking and tongue bath was heaven. She groaned, she couldn’t help it, pushing against his mouth. 

It was John’s kisses, on her breasts, her neck, that tipped the spill into coming for her. Juicy, thick spasms; she quivered and her hips undulated luxuriously. 

When Harold rose up from between her legs. he was shiny with her juice from his upper lip to his chin.

“Oh … my,” she whispered.

“Let me.” John’s soft voice. He urged Harold down on the pillows beside her. It did something to her to see him lick the taste of her from Harold’s lips and kiss him. She rolled on her side to watch them and felt Nathan snuggling up close behind her. The slick head of his cock nosing between her thighs.

“Ready?” he asked her.

“Very.”

It wasn’t like being with three straight men, Zoe thought. It was better. These three were fascinated by her body. Curious, respectful, and not the least bit squeamish about body fluids. Their approach was sensuous and unhurried. When it came to oral sex, she was ready to award blue ribbons.

 

***

 

Snow was gathering on the balcony outside their second floor kitchen. Harold thought it looked pretty on the black iron railings. He heard the sound of slippered feet behind him and turned to find his husband, looking sleepy and appealing in his bathrobe.

“Good morning, my love.”

“Barely morning,” Nathan mumbled, moving in close to be hugged.

“I’m surprised to see you up.”

“I won’t be for long. Just wanted to check on you, make sure you’re okay. You’re not working?”

“Not yet.” Nathan generally slept in much later. Harold tended to be up early and in his workroom by the time his husband stirred. “I’m making tea. Savoring the night.” The hot water rattled, gathering steam in the kettle and Harold moved away to take it off the burner before the whistle could sound. “Tea?”

“Not for me. I’ll have coffee later, when I actually get up.”

“Is something worrying you, Nathan?” He poured the hot water into his cup and enjoyed the fragrant steam it created. His own mood was a little dreamy, speculative.

“What’s going to happen, Harold? I know you. You’re not a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy.” Very true. He did think he had a better understanding now of what it was Nathan and Zoe sought in their encounters … but he didn’t understand the part where you said good bye. How perfect it felt to be a family of four.

“A lot will depend on how he feels. How she feels.”

“She … Zoe?”

“Of course. And how you feel, for that matter.”

“Harold,” Nathan said, in the tone he used when explaining something that he considered obvious. “You do realize that it’s possible to have sex with a friend without changing … everything.”

“I do.”

“I don’t believe you, but it’s too early to think this hard. I’m going back to bed where civilized people are still warm and naked under the covers. Kiss me.”

 

***

 

Nathan reclaimed his spot in the middle with a shiver of gratitude for the warmth. Zoe gave a sleepy moan of protest when his cool body first touched hers but didn’t really wake up. John brought blessed heat to his back, moving in close behind him, an arm snaking its way around both him and Zoe.

“Harold okay?” John whispered.

“He’s good.” He could feel the soldier relax and stroked the arm John had put around him, down to where his hand was tucked around Zoe’s breast. Nathan found another spot to tuck his own fingers under the curve of soft tit.

Maybe, he thought, he should just trust Harold. More nights like the last one and mornings like this. The man was a genius after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A light tale for the holidays! Not my usual territory but I did enjoy this world and may visit again in the future.


End file.
